Hogwarts Assignments
by merwhopotterlock
Summary: These are just stories written from prompts for the forum Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments).
1. Who Am I?

**The stars are beautiful, but they are also very helpful. In ancient times, people used the stars to navigate and find their way home when they were lost. **

**Your Assignment: Write about a character who is lost (physically or emotionally) and finds their way. Use these three prompts: night, eternity, void. **

**Who Am I?**

* * *

Alex had been a metamorphmagus for as long as she could remember. It was natural to her, just as how breathing was natural. She still remembered the first time someone other than her family knew what she was. She was ten.

It had happened near the forest that surrounded their home. Her little brother, Magnus, was trying to catch Alex and her friend Adele in the muggle game of tag. Adele came from a family of muggles. Her older sister was a witch, and she was trying to teach them the muggle games she and her sister played.

"Got you!" shouted Magnus, tackling Alex to the floor.

"Hey!" she shouted, trying to shove Magnus off her. He wouldn't budge, so she resorted to tickling him on the neck.

"Alex!" he complained. "That tickles!" Alex ignored him, and he rolled on the floor, laughing. But as soon as she stopped, Magnus reached up and started to tickle her. They were in a tickle war, with both of them laughing as each tried to get the other back.

"Guys? Are you okay? Um, guys, I don't…" Adele trailed off as she caught sight of something.

"Something the matter, Adele?" asked Alex. Adele didn't answer, and just backed slowly away. "Adele?" Alex took a step forward as Magnus hung back, watching the two of them from where he was.

"GET BACK!" shrieked Adele. Fear was etched on her face as she continued to back away.

"What's wrong?"

"YOU, THAT'S WHAT! YOU'RE A FREAK, ALEXANDRIA!" Adele gestured wildly to Alex's head. Alex turned her head to look in the window. Her hair wasn't the blonde it usually was. It was a bright pink.

"Why are you freaking out? Your sister's a witch too," said Magnus, speaking for the first time.

"I'M FINE WITH PEOPLE LIKE HER! I'M ONE TOO! YOUR SISTER, HOWEVER, IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM ALL OF US! SHE'S NOT NORMAL! THERE AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE PEOPLE LIKE HER!"

Alex felt tears threatening to spill, and tried desperately to hold them in. No one had ever treated her like this before. "I'm not the only one. I was born like this, the same with others!" she exclaimed.

"AND IT'S UNNATURAL! I'M LEAVING." And Adele spun on her heel, leaving them to stare at her rapidly departing back.

"Alex…"

"Don't. Just don't." She ran into the forest, hot tears dripping down her face as she stumbled over rocks and broken branches until she no longer recognized where she was. There was a large pond in the middle of the clearing, and it reflected the black void that was the night sky. Had she really run for so long?

Alex just sat there for a while, gazing at the star-littered sky for what felt like an eternity. She kept replaying the words that Adele had heatedly thrown at her over and over again. Why did Adele react like that, though? Was it because of how she grew up with muggles as parents? Yes, thought Alex, that must be it. Adele probably never grew up knowing about metamorphmagi.

But she couldn't stop thinking about one particular phrase. Was that really what people saw her as? A freak? A freak that could change what she looked like?

They were right, in a way, she supposed. She didn't even know who she was, or what she looked like. She was nobody, and yet everybody at the same time. She just kept shifting and changing.

Who am I?

That was the question she kept asking herself. But no matter how hard she tried she could never answer herself.

Alex certainly wasn't normal. She didn't have one "look", but instead had many. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to figure out who she was? Was she a blonde, brunette, ginger, or pinkette? Did she have green, blue, or brown eyes? Was she kind and caring, or thoughtless and cruel? Could she even describe herself?

Who am I?

Was she a freak, or not? Normal or abnormal? Young or old? What did she like? Was she even a girl?

She was thrown into a whirlwind of emotions as she kept thinking, and her appearance matched that. Alex looked in the pond, which was reflecting her ever-changing appearance.

She heard footsteps, and shook herself out of her thoughts. "Alex." She spun around, and saw Magnus approaching her.

"Go away, Magnus." He settled himself down besides her. "Leave me alone!"

"What's the matter sis?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't matter what Adele said, you know. You shouldn't let it bother you."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?" They sat in silence as she considered the answer to his question.

"Magnus," Alex said, her voice soft. "Who am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who am I? Because I don't know. I don't even know what I look like."

"You know who you are? You're the kindest person I've ever met. You're my best friend, and you're always there for me. You are so many things, Alex. It doesn't matter what you look like. It shouldn't matter. You are who you are. And no matter who you are, you'll always be my sister, and I'll always love you." There was a passion in his words as he spoke.

Alex felt something stir inside her. She was just worrying unnecessarily. Magnus was right.

She smiled and hugged him close. He always seemed to know what to say. "You're pretty smart for a nine year old."

And they sat there by the pond, brother and sister, starlight on their faces.

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**(For those readers who have just read this and are thoroughly confused as to why I wrote this because for some reason they skipped the summary)**

**I have joined this forum, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There are classes, and you have to write these assignments for them. This is the one I wrote for Astronomy.**

**I guess this one can be considered a bit of a back-story for Alex from my story Metamorphmagus. But since the prompts and assignments are always different, they aren't always going to be related to each other.**


	2. Why?

**History of Magic Assignment: ****Write a story with Merlin as your main character, or narrated by someone else but is focused on Merlin. ****Alternatively, write about prejudices against Slytherins.**

**Why?**

* * *

Atlas Eriksson had always known about the house of Slytherin and its reputation. Muggle-borns were never accepted, and it was the house of the cruel and ambitious. He definitely didn't want to be part of _that_ house.

His mother had raised him alone, his father having left her for a reason she never discussed with him. She had been a Hufflepuff, and raised him to be kind to everyone and disregard "blood-status". She had always believed that Atlas would be sorted into Hufflepuff.

As a result, it was a shock when the Sorting Hat told him he would be best in Slytherin.

"Ah, yes, Atlas Eriksson," said the hat. "I sorted both your father and mother, you know. I do suppose Hufflepuff would be good for you, but your father's house would suit you better. You don't know your father? He was a cunning one, and was always setting high goals for himself. And he often succeeded, and in some cases he even exceeded his goal. You may not think so, but his house would suit you well. Yes, I suppose it must beSLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table started to clap loudly as he made his way to his house. One Slytherin gripped his hand tightly, and congratulated him on getting into the best house.

All Atlas could think about was what just happened. He didn't pay attention to the rest of the sorting, and was the only person that didn't look up when the name Harry Potter was called.

Why? Why was he in _Slytherin, _of all places? Surely the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. He knew that he didn't belong here, where all the unpleasant and cruel people were.

The next day was even worse, if that was possible. He was just on the way to the library when he heard a very heated conversation taking place.

It was between a Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy, Iratum Incassum. Incassum was one of the wizards that believed "pure blood" was better. He watched as Incassum insulted the girl and took out his wand. Suddenly, the girl's hair turned from black to an angry red. A metamorphmagus!

Her sudden change shook him out of his thoughts, and Atlas stepped in. "Hey! Get lost and leave her alone!" he shouted.

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" snarled Incassum.

"You heard him, Incassum. Get lost!" exclaimed the girl. He watched as Incassum walked away, and turned his attention to the Hufflepuff.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." And she turned around.

Atlas could see the shock registered in her eyes as her eyes travelled to his Slytherin badge. It seemed like she was the same as everyone else. No one could believe that a Slytherin could be nice.

He vaguely followed the conversation they were having, but his mind was occupied with his thoughts.

Why?

Why was there this prejudice against Slytherins? He was just trying to help. Atlas had accepted that he was a Slytherin. Couldn't these people accept that a Slytherin could be kind? He had no ulterior motives hidden in what he did, contrary to what people thought.

Atlas watched with sad eyes as the Hufflepuff girl snapped something at him, and marched away. He called out a weak goodbye, but she was already gone.

He walked away, his head filled with questions and a desire to not cross paths with the Hufflepuff girl, if possible.

But what he didn't know was that despite everything she had harboured against him, the two would soon become the best of friends.

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**If you are confused as to why I am writing this story, go check the summary above.**

**This could be a bit of a back-story for Atlas from my story Metamorphmagus, and some of his thoughts in Chapters 2 and 5.**


	3. Useless

**Defense Against the Dark Arts Assignment:**** Please write about the practical uses of DADA, with the prompts of glow, fall, and, spike. This assignment ****must**** be over 500 words in length.**

**Useless**

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_October 30, 1981_

Atrox ran through the dark forest, chasing after the figures in front of him. To him, they were just filthy Mudbloods and blood-traitors that needed to be cleansed from the world. Blood purity was everything, and their very existence tainted that.

That was why he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord after graduating from Hogwarts. _He _would make sure that the filth would be wiped away and that those disgusting muggles would cower at the feet of the wizarding world. The Dark Lord's vision was the goal that Atrox had set for himself, and he was determined to achieve it.

One of his prey tripped over a rock. The others tried to help him, but he signaled them to leave him. Atrox snorted at the man's show at bravery. Bravery was merely another word for stupidity.

He was about to finish the man off with one spell, but then Atrox saw his face. It was that Mudblood Gryffindor who he had to endure in Hogwarts. No, he thought, it would be too kind to kill him quickly. Let the Mudblood suffer.

The man on the ground attempted to hit him with a feeble curse, but Atrox easily deflected it and quickly disarmed the man. Was this the best the Order had? It was no wonder that their ranks were falling so quickly. They were obviously in need of a better DADA teacher.

"CRUCIO!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the man, who screamed as spikes of pain shot all over his body. His back arched up, and he began rocking back and forth. Atrox felt pleasure coursing through his body as he listened. The sound of Mudbloods screaming and crying for mercy was like music to him. There was nothing that he enjoyed more.

He didn't remove his wand from the man until a red light flew past him, almost hitting his nose. It seemed like the rest of the Mudbloods and blood-traitors had returned. Atrox turned to face them, but not before finishing off the Mudblood.

He directed his wand to his victim's heart, and yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" A familiar green glow lit his face, and several spells were sent at him. He deflected them all.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted again, casting the curse at a blood-traitor who fell immediately. Atrox cast the spell again and again until there was only one person remaining. They had tried to fight back, but none of them could match the glorious power of the Dark curses that he wielded.

The remaining Mudblood ran from him, and Atrox gave pursuit once again. There was nothing better than chasing after Mudbloods like a bloodhound chasing a boar. It simply added to the anticipation and pleasure.

Atrox grinned when he saw where the man was heading. The Mudblood didn't know it, but he was heading straight towards a cliff with a very nasty fall. He chased his prey onto the cliff, and the man paled when he realized his choice. Jump off the cliff and escape the torture of the Death Eater behind him, or turn around and face him.

To Atrox's surprise, the man decided to turn around and face him. It was a brave, but foolish thing to do.

"STUPEFY!" shouted the man, sending a jet of red light at Atrox, who met it with a spell of his own.

"DIFFINDO!" shouted Atrox. The man shielded himself from the spell, and retaliated.

"INCENDIO!" Atrox was nearly hit by the spell. He had to admit, this Mudblood was better than the rest. He was still standing and had managed to almost hit Atrox, who had turned the fire into a large snake that was currently advancing on his opponent. The man fought it off, but lost his wand in the process.

The two looked at where the wand lay, and the man started to run towards where it lay. First mistake.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" The man stopped in his tracks, and Atrox slowly walked to where the wand was, and picked it up. He watched the terror in the man's face, and savored every moment. The Mudblood had put up a valiant fight, but it wouldn't be enough against him, one of the many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord.

He held the wand in front of him, and snapped it. The man tried to run, but Atrox conjured ropes to hold him in place. Annoyingly, the man continued to struggle, and Atrox rolled his eyes. Did they really think they would be able to escape?

"Now, now," purred Atrox, "stop struggling. It's pathetic."

"Not as pathetic as you!" said the man, spitting in his face.

Atrox felt a rage fill him that he hadn't felt for a long while. That revolting Mudblood had some nerve, spitting on him! He was a pureblood, and deserved to be treated as such!

"CRUCIO!" he cried, this time with much more intensity. The familiar pleasure came back to him again as the filth began to scream.

"Not so brave now, are you? Your kind will be wiped off this planet, and a new, glorious world will be born. Your future death is just one step closer to this better world."

"You won't succeed. The Order will defeat you."

"The Order? They are nothing, compared to the Dark Lord."

"We know how to defend ourselves against you and your buddies," he spat.

"Really? Because it doesn't look like it. Your supposed Defense Against the Dark Arts is useless. I'm just one of many, and I managed to wipe out your entire group."

"Then you don't know Dumbledore. He will defeat Voldemort."

"You _dare _say the Dark Lord's name and taint it with your dirty mouth? CRUCIO!" Atrox watched as the Mudblood started screaming again, and leaned in. "You should have fallen of the cliff, _M__udblood,_" he whispered, before casting the fatal spell.

A green glow emitted, and illuminated the man's descent down the cliff. Atrox was finished here. Despite what the Mudblood had said, the Dark Lord would prevail, and his reign would last forever.

Atrox didn't know that the very next night would mark the downfall of Voldemort. He would be caught by the Order of Phoenix, along with fellow Death Eaters that included Bellatrix Lestrange, and sentenced to life in Azkaban.

Is their Defense Against the Dark Arts still useless, Atrox?

* * *

**And this concludes my assignment for DADA. **

**Despite what you may think, Atrox is important to my story Metamorphmagus. Well, he will be in the fifth year.**

**(Wow. Pretty much all my assignments have become a sort of back story for my OCs)**


	4. Nothing Like Him

**Though the stars shine with their own light, even the brightest star is hidden by daylight. **

**Your Assignment: Write about a character who is overshadowed by someone else.**

**Nothing Like Him**

* * *

Thomas Holloway was perfect from the moment he came into the world. Born with a head of ginger hair, he was the type of baby that never made a fuss. Everyone loved him. His family loved him, his family's friends loved him, and even complete strangers loved him.

Nick Holloway had big shoes to fill when he was born one year later. He was blonde, cried at almost every opportunity he got, and broke nearly everything in the house. His family still loved him nonetheless, but he was nothing like Thomas.

The difference between the boys was made obvious when Tom had turned eleven. He was in school and his grades were at its peak. The teachers loved him, he was great at football, and was a relatively popular boy, with a large group of friends and a band of girls that held onto every word he said.

Nick was ten. Every teacher he had set high expectations for Nick. They all thought that he would be great at everything, being the younger brother of Tom Holloway.

That wasn't true. Nick was horrible at math, and struggled with almost all of his subjects. He was an avid football fan, but had no skill when it came to the actual sport. His friends were a grand total of zero, one if you counted the janitor, and he was constantly bullied.

It was a gang of boys, led by a burly boy named Tony. They would handle him roughly during lunch, and chase him around. No one ever stopped them. Instead, they simply sat idly by as the small boy was beaten up. Some even pretended that they couldn't see it happening. Nick was sure that Tom would do something, but they never had the same lunch and Nick would never tell his brother.

It was summer break, and Nick had a rough run-in with Tony and his gang. He was sure his nose was broken, and he couldn't feel half of his body. Nothing could make his day worse. He was wrong.

He and Tom were sitting by the fireplace playing cards when there was a knocking at the door. His mother put down her book, and got up to open the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, and I would like to speak to you about your son, Thomas Holloway. He's been accepted into our school."

"Please, come in! Sit yourself down. Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you." Her voice was sharp, and she sounded like a strict person. She wore her gray hair in a tight bun, and wore the most peculiar clothes. A long, dark cloak covered the emerald green robes she was wearing.

"Is your husband home? I think it would be best for both of you to be here."

"Oh, of course! Brandon, dear! There's a professor here to talk about Tom."

Her husband walked into the room. "What's he done?" His voice was rough, like the scar that ran down his face.

"Your son hasn't down anything wrong. He's just been accepted into our school."

"What type of school?" Mrs Holloway was a teacher, and ever interested in the education of her sons.

"This may come as a bit of a shock, but he's been accepted into a magic school. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Nick spiraled into shock, and all he heard was a blur of voices and exclamations. He faintly followed the professor's explanation of magic and how it worked. His brother had magic?

Did he have magic too? Or was this all a joke?

The professor left, and Nick was left to mull over his thoughts. After a week, the shock had passed. Soon, Tom was at Hogwarts. His brother constantly sent letters about what was happening and what spells he had learned.

Nick enjoyed reading the letters his brother sent home. But he was jealous, and worried. All his life he had been compared to his brother, been expected to be like him. What if he didn't have magic? What was he to do then? How could he live a normal life when he knew of an exciting and magical one?

He wasn't the only one that was worried. Nick could see how his mother kept glancing at him every now and then, as if expecting him to suddenly turn something into a toad. This just increased his fear even more.

Next summer, he waited everyday for a knock at the door. He had given up all hope when an owl suddenly appeared at the window. It wasn't the owl Tom usually used. He fumbled with the lock, and let the owl fly in. It deposited a letter on the table, and flew off.

Nick opened the letter with trembling hands, and let out a shout of joy when he saw the contents. His Hogwarts letter. He spent the rest of the summer in anticipation until he finally boarded the scarlet train.

The rest of the day went by quickly, and soon, Nick was on a comfy bed in his dormitory. Nothing could be better. He had made a new friend, Alex, and someone had yet to compare him to his brother. It was all he had ever wanted. He was finally free from the shadows.

* * *

**Here ends my Astronomy assignment.**

**It's also a bit of a back-story for Nick from my story Metamorphmagus.**


	5. Amour

**History of Magic Assignment: Write about Helena Ravenclaw. Alternatively, write about Love and Betrayal.**

**Amour**

* * *

"What's wrong?" Elena Carlton watched her boyfriend closely as he closed the door behind him. Hammond had been behaving strangely these past few days and it was starting to make her worry.

There were bags beginning to appear under his eyes, and it seemed like he hardly ate. He had begun wearing long sleeves, despite it being the middle of June.

"Stressful day, that's all," he said, kissing her temple. She accepted his explanation, but couldn't help thinking that there was more to it.

"DADDY!" A little girl in pigtails ran towards Hammond and slammed into him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"How's my princess doing?" Elena smiled as Hammond presented the girl with a little wrapped present. He spoiled their little girl.

The next few days passed quickly, and Hammond got worse with each passing day. The bags under his eyes were more prominent, and his cheeks were hallowed.

Elena had just put Carol to bed when Hammond showed up, covered in a long, black cloak. "Why are you so late?"

"Work. Where's Carol?" There was a sort of sorrow in his eyes as he looked at Elena.

"She's asleep."

"There's something I have to tell you." Elena's heartbeat increased. Nothing good ever happened when someone said that.

She sat down on the couch as he took off his cloak. He was wearing short-sleeves under, which enabled Elena to see the tattoo that snaked up his left arm.

"Please don't hate me," he pleaded, his voice wavering.

"Why would I?" Elena was confused. What had he done?

"I'm a wizard. I have magic."

"That's – that's not possible!" Her head was a whirl of thoughts and confusion. Was this some sort of prank?

She watched numbly as he took out a stick and directed it to the coffee table, which rose up in the air. He set it down, and watched Elena, who was trembling with shock.

"I'm different than you Elena. So is Carol. She has magical blood, but you don't." Tears started streaking down his face. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I love you too!" blurted out Elena, getting up from the couch to mover towards him.

"I'm sorry for this." His eyes dropped as he fingered his wand.

"We can still be together! I – I don't hate you, Hammond!" She too was crying.

"I wasn't saying sorry for that."

"Then what-"

Hammond pointed the wand at her, and whispered the fatal words. "Avada kedavra." A green glow filled the room as Elena fell backwards onto the floor, her body limp, and her face frozen in shock.

He fell down onto his knees next to her. "I'm sorry!" he sobbed, dropping his wand. "I was – I was too weak! I – I couldn't defy the wishes of the – the Dark Lord! I had no choice!" Warm tears dripped down his face and onto her lifeless body. "I love you," he whispered, closing the beautiful brown eyes he would never look into again, and lifting her body onto the couch.

A rustle from behind took him by surprise, and he whirled around. Hammond looked sadly at the source of the noise. Her curly brown hair stuck up everywhere, and she was wearing pink pyjamas that contrasted with her dark skin. "Daddy!" she said, her big, brown eyes filled with happiness. "Where's mommy?"

"She's taking a nap right now. Go back to sleep princess." He couldn't look her in the eye, not now. She looked too much like her mother.

"Will you be here tomorrow? Mommy says you have work, but I want you to be with me." What should he say? He wouldn't be here tomorrow; it would be too dangerous. But could he lie to her? He had never done that before.

"Yes, I'll be here," he said, rustling her hair. "Go to sleep now."

"Goodnight daddy!"

"Goodnight," he whispered as her figure retreated. She wasn't old enough to understand what death was.

He knew he had to go, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the house where so many happy memories were made. But those memories were but a painful reminder of what he had done. And he had done something that would haunt him for eternity. Taking the life of one of the most important people in his life.

Elena had been there for him, always. They were childhood friends. They understood each other, knew the strengths and weaknesses of the other.

And she was gone because of him.

Because of his betrayal, and his weakness. Because of his fear, and his failure. Because of him.

Was it really worth it? Serving the Dark Lord? There were times where he decided to leave the ranks, but his courage always failed him. If only he had been brave enough! If only!

Why had he fallen for her in the first place? He had been told not to be as foolish as to love a muggle, but did he listen? No. It was his fault. Completely his fault for falling in love with her. And his love had been twisted, and used as a way to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord.

He no longer tasted the saltiness of his tears, for he had none left. He had nothing left, not even his beautiful daughter. He would lose her, whether he stayed or went.

Hammond stood up, and opened the door to her bedroom. Glow-in-the-dark stars hung from the ceiling and illuminated her round face. She was clutching her teddy bear as she murmured something in her sleep. He took one last look at her peaceful sleep before closing the door.

Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out the front door, leaving everything he had ever loved behind in the service of a man he hated.


	6. Green Lights

**Defence Against the Dark Arts Assignment: ****writing a romantic or tragic scene that takes place in a DADA class or classroom**

**Prompts****: **_**"first", "text", "kitten"**_

**Green Lights**

* * *

_May 2, 1998 – Battle of Hogwarts_

Marie stumbled back as a curse was shot at her, and sent a stream of spells in retaliation. Her cousin Wren fought besides her as the Death Eaters sent curse after curse. The two muggle-born Ravenclaws had both graduated from Hogwarts three years ago, but they returned to fight for the school that they held dear.

A jet of green light narrowly missed Wren as the cousins backed away. "Reducto!" Marie shouted, causing stone debris to fly everywhere.

It pained Marie's heart to see Hogwarts in such a pitiful state. The magic school had been a haven for both girls, and allowed them to find friends and family, which neither of them had before.

The stairs right above them crumpled, and Wren pulled Marie into the door behind them, saving them both. Their opponents weren't so lucky, and they were crushed under the rubble.

"Are you okay?" asked Wren, breathless from fighting.

"Yeah. What about you?" Marie already knew the answer. Their clothes were torn in various paces, and both of them had cuts and bruises decorating their body. Blood trickled down the side of her head, and a large, bloody gash was on her cousin's leg, staining her pants a dark red.

"Still alive." Marie cracked a grin, grateful at her cousin's attempt to lighten the mood.

She walked over to the door, and tried to open it. It was useless. The rubble on the other side blocked their only entrance. "Guess we're stuck here," she said, glancing around.

They were in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Or what used to be. It was almost unrecognizable, with stone pillars supporting the ceiling and chains hanging everywhere. There was little light, except for the weak glow coming from a lamp in the corner of the class.

Knives hung on the wall behind the teacher's desk, some of which were covered in dried blood. Looking closer, Marie could see various marks on the pillars. Some looked like a metal object had been dragged across them, while others seemed like they had been scorched by spells. And not just any spells. Curses that belonged to the Dark Arts. This was perhaps the first time Marie had hated someone more than that toad woman, Umbridge.

Marie felt sick at the stomach. She had heard rumours while she was on the run that the Carrows were teaching a Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, but she had never believed it until now. Looking at Wren, she could tell that she too was horrified at what had happened. The pink and kitten makeover the classroom had received while the cousins were in their final year was nothing compared to this.

Looking down, Marie spotted a textbook. _The Dark Arts_. She picked it up and flipped through the pages. The text was made illegible by the dried up blood on the pages.

"Come on." She looked up at Wren who was gently tugging her arm. "We've got to get out of here."

"Yeah, you're right." She stood up, wand in hand. "Should we blast through?"

"Right now, that's our best option." They aimed their wands at the door, and uttered the spell at the same time. The door flew backwards, clearing a path through the debris.

Wren moved to step out of the door, but then the unexpected happened. A jet of green light streaked towards her cousin. And this time, it didn't miss.

Time slowed down, and it seemed like an eternity before Marie reached her cousin. She couldn't hear anything except her own voice calling Wren's name over and over. She was deaf to everything else.

Wren's body was cold and void of movement. If only she had moved towards the door first, thought Marie. Wren would still be alive, then.

She cradled her cousin's head in her arms. Everything was blurred as warm tears filled her eyes and streaked down her face, mingling with the blood on her face.

She screamed with all her might towards the ceiling, fury and grief mixing up. Marie closed Wren's eyes and laid her down by the wall.

Marie dried her tears, and stood up. She would continue to fight. That was what Wren would have wanted.

And that was what she did. She fought with every breath that she took, bringing down Death Eater after Death Eater.

Somehow, she made it back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Marie had managed to corner a Death Eater in the classroom, and was about to stun him when her wand flew out of her hand. A green glow illuminated her face as she uttered her last words.

"See you soon, Wren."

* * *

**Those were completely random OC's, btw.**


	7. The Werewolf and the Metamorphmagus

**History of Magic Assignment: Write about a character represented by an element. Alternatively, write about transformation.**

**The Werewolf and the Metamorphmagus**

* * *

He was a kind and gentle soul, one fourth of the Maruaders. A Gryffindor prefect and a favourite of the teachers.

She was clumsy, and always getting in trouble. A brave and loyal Hufflepuff with dreams of becoming an Auror.

He changed into a beast under the moon, howling at the starry night sky all alone.

She was pink, blue, short, tall, and ever changing her appearance, blending in and standing out all alone.

The werewolf and the metamorphmagus.

She had loved him, only ever wanting to be at his side.

He had refused her, wanting to protect her from the darkness inside.

But then, it all changed.

He gave in to her, and they became together. She transformed him, and he her. No longer was he the lonely wolf, or she the lonely metamorph. They were transformed, together.

* * *

**That was probably the shortest thing I've ever written. If you haven't noticed, I'm trying out a new style. Tell me if you guys like it!**


	8. Telli-vizon

**The messages that the stars give us are often vague and unspecific. **

**Your Assignment: Write a story about a character without using their name. At the end of the story, put a note stating their name. You will be graded on how well you represented the character without actually stating their name.**

**Telli-vizon**

* * *

The man washed the grime off his hands and looked in the mirror. His ginger hair stood out, though he was starting to go bald.

He had just finished tinkering with another _fascinating _object that the muggles had invented. The telli-vizon. The things that those muggles could come up with were simply _wonderful_. There were telly-fones, and electricy, just to name a few.

It was hobby, trying to figure out how all those objects worked. He couldn't understand how nobody else found it amazing. His numerous children took little interest in his projects, and his wife was constantly yelling at him for tampering with muggle objects.

He couldn't help his curiosity. It was a box that showed actual people, for Merlin's sake! It was almost like magic!

Today, he had taken it apart and tried to modify the telli-vizon. Granted, things had blown apart in his face before, like today, but it was still his passion. So much so that his very job dealt with muggle objects.

He knew perfectly well that he could gain a promotion and earn more money, but he like it where he was. There was nothing like working in a job that you loved. He didn't want to give it up.

Which reminded him, the car in the garage still needed a bit more modifications. It was almost done, in fact. He just needed to hide what her was doing from his wife. He had told her that he was studying the car, as tampering with muggle objects was illegal. Though what he was doing _technically _wasn't illegal. There was a loophole in the law, after all.

He sighed and made his way to his bedroom, climbing up the rickety staircase and passing various doors along the way. But when he caught of his furious red-headed wife, he gulped visibly, and prepared himself for a lecture about explosions in the garage and telli-vizons.

Whoops.

* * *

**And my character is…**

**Arthur Weasley!**


	9. Of Death and Guilt

**History of Magic Assignment: ****Write about one of the champions (any year, known/minor/original characters accepted). Alternatively, write about the Tournament in general from a spectator's point of view.**

**Of Guilt and Death**

* * *

_France_

Clovis Dubois walked back to the house from the stables, his jacket billowing in the wind. He preferred the comfortable robes of wizard apparel to the decorated habits and wigs that typical muggles wore, but it was necessary to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world.

He was dressed similarly to a wealthy muggle, with a navy waistcoat trimmed with rich, gold lace under a plain black coat. His white shirt was ruffled, he wore silk stockings with his breeches, and his powdered wig was pulled back, tied with a black ribbon and covered with a tricorne hat.

"Why must thou have such a sorrowful face? Hath the Ministry not agreed with thee?" Clovis turned around to face Sophie, who wore the more relaxed style of the robe à la française. Her silk gown was simply decorated and a pastel blue, a color similar to those that they had worn during their time at Beauxbatons under the headmaster, Monsieur Guillaume.

"Such trivial matters as those should not trouble thy thoughts."

"It is the guilt, is it not? It hath plagued thee ever since the day that destiny, in all her glory, decided to set thee upon this path. Tis why thou art fighting for it."

"Is it with that much ease that thou can see through me as if I were made of the clearest glass?"

Sophie turned to look at him, her blue eyes meeting his brown. "Hath thou forgotten that I was present when the goblet spitted out thy name in a fury of blue flames? That I watched as thee battled thy way through the tournament? That I stood by thee as the trophy was lifted up?"

"No, my dear, sweet, Sophie, I have not forgotten all thee hath done."

"Then tell me, Clovis. Speak of what is troubling thee so that I can relieve the burden that weighs so heavily upon thy shoulders." Clovis remained silent. "Guilt of survival is not wise," said Sophie. "Tis not thy fault that death took thine opponents and left thee alone."

"Tis simple to speak in such a way when thou hath not been placed in a situation like my own. History may forget their names, but I never will! Ivan Konstantinov and Evonne Hall. Forever I will remember them."

He fell quiet, remembering what had happened.

Their first task was scaling a mountain of tremendous size, avoiding obstacles along the way. The Hogwarts champion was just a little girl with big dreams, but all it took was one loose rock for those dreams to come crashing down.

Durmstrang's champion had a kind heart, despite appearances. He had taken a liking to Evonne, and thought of her like a little sister. Ivan was devastated at her death. It was during the second task, battling a Chimera, that he fell.

Clovis could have saved both of them. But he didn't.

The third task was a race across half of France. The tournament continued, despite the fact that only one champion was left, him, the Beauxbatons champion.

After hours of struggle, he finally finished, winning the Triwizard Tournament. But he felt no joy or happiness at this fact.

That was seven years ago.

He still felt the same as he did then. He felt hatred, hatred for the tournament. People lost their lives, loved ones, and friends.

And for what? A trophy? Glory?

Today he had been so close to convincing the Ministry to abolish the tournament forever. But in the end, his voice was drowned out.

Next year would mark another year of the tournament. For how long would the tournament have to go on until the Ministry decided it was wrong and dangerous? How many more deaths did there have to be?

Clovis gazed out into the sunset. He wouldn't rest until it was discontinued and no more would have to die for it. He owed it to them.

He would fight.

* * *

**I admire all of you who write fanfics that require words like thee, thou, thy, and so on. It's so hard. And I didn't even write all of it like that.**


	10. Pineapples and Immortality

**Defence Against the Dark Arts Assignment:**** This fortnight we are learning about Dark wizards, preferably before or about what made them turn Dark. Also, this assignment isn't necessarily about Dark Lords, such as Grindlewald, so writing about a Death Eater, or someone similar is perfectly fine.**

**Pineapples and Immortality**

* * *

The boy sat in the corner, his quill scratching on the parchment as the rest of his house lounged about the dimly lit common-room. A pile of worn library books sat on the table, and a box of crystalline pineapple.

He was so close to achieving what he desired. Immortality.

The power that he could gain with it was tantalizingly. To be able to live forever, be unconquerable. Yes, that was what he wanted.

He would be better than his weak mother, who had died shortly after giving birth to him. He would force those disgusting muggles to bow down before true power and cower at the feet of wizards. He would attain glory, and go down in history as the man who defeated Dumbledore.

Dumbledore. The senile old fool that believed in and protected those filthy muggles. That man had never liked him. But as much as he despised Dumbledore, he still respected him.

The rest of the professors had fallen to his act of the perfect student. Even the headmaster had been caught in his intricately designed web of lies and deception. Dumbledore seemed to be the only one with at least an inkling of suspicion.

Speaking of professors, he had a Slug Club party in a few hours. He was a special favourite of Slughorn, the jewel of the collection, so to put it. To put his plan into action, he had to have the cooperation of the Professor. He was the only professor that he dared ask. Dumbledore would catch on to his plan, as might Professor Dippet.

Plus, Slughorn was easily persuaded. All it would take would be a box of crystalline pineapple, and a few carefully chosen words of persuasion. He had been planning this for weeks, right down to every minute possibility.

He looked down to his parchment, gazing at that one word. That one word that would transform him forever. That one missing piece that would complete the riddle. Horcruxes.

And with that, he would do great things.

He would no longer be Tom Marvolo Riddle.

He would become Lord Voldemort.


	11. Portkey

**If you gaze long enough at the heavens, you will see the fates of many written among them.**

**Your Assignment: Write about a life-changing event that happens to a character simply because of a slip of fate. Example: They didn't get much sleep the night before, so they stop for a cup of coffee, and, in the coffee shop, they bump into the person they'll someday marry.**

**Portkey**

* * *

He hurriedly slipped on his navy coat, sticking his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. His robes would have been more preferable, but he couldn't be choosy about his clothing, not when he was going to be late. The portkey to Canada was leaving at noon, which was in ten minutes, and he was still in the muggle hotel.

Needless to say, Rolf Scamander was not having a good day.

He quickly ran down the stairs, not paying attention to the muggle money he shoved into the hands of the receptionist, who stared in shock at the five hundred euros she had just received.

Rolf ran down the street, ignoring the curious glances that came his way. He didn't care; he was going to be late. And that, he thought, was not good.

If the portkey to Canada left without him, not only would he be unable to catch a glimpse of the elusive creature, but there would also be an international crisis. The disappearance of the wizarding world's most famous naturalist would cause a major freak out. It wouldn't be as bad as one of the Golden Trio disappearing off the face of the planet, but still. People always made a big fuss, especially that obnoxious reporter that was always buzzing around.

And all this would happen simply because he couldn't find his hotel.

Rolf had spent all night yesterday trying to find the correct hotel until a young boy pointed him in the right direction. By that time, it was already midnight. He was completely knocked out before his head even touched the pillow. It wasn't his fault that he woke up late. He was tired, that's all.

He glanced down to his watch. Almost noon. How long did this street go? He stopped to take a breather, and mentally slapped himself.

He had been running in circles.

A bell started to ring, and he slumped down onto a nearby bench. It was officially noon, and the portkey had already left. There was no point in running around like a fool anymore.

Rolf buried his face in his hands, ignoring his wand, which was rolling down the street after falling out of his pocket.

"Excuse me. Is this yours?" asked a dreamy voice.

He lifted up his eyes to see a young woman with dirty-blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun. Radish earrings hung off her ears, and she was wearing a yellow sundress. Red trainers were on her feet, and her hands were decorated with a variety of bracelets, one of which was holding out his wand.

"Oh, yes! It's just a curious-looking stick I picked up from the park, but thanks for returning it." His heart was racing. If a muggle found out about him, he would be in even more trouble.

"There's no need to lie," she said with a knowing smile. Rolf breathed a sigh of relief. She had magic, like him.

"I'm Rolf Scamander," he said.

"Luna Lovegood." Rolf nearly dropped his wand again in shock. It wasn't just any person standing in front of him; it was one of the war heroes. "Are you okay?" she asked, her pale grey eyes peering at him.

"Me? I'm fine."

"That's good. It was nice talking to you, Rolf, but I must be on my way."

"This soon?" He knew that she had no obligation to stay with him, but he had a feeling about her. It was like he was pulled to her, like there was a force that was pushing them together.

"My portkey to Canada is leaving soon," she said, a small smile gracing her lips as she turned back. "I'm a naturalist. I'm not as good as you, but I love it."

Rolf was dumbfounded. Out of all the possibilities that could have happened, this did. He had just met one of the war heroes, and she was a naturalist, like him. And she was going to Canada.

"Wait!" he called, running after her retreating figure.

Maybe this day wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**And thanks to christina for reviewing! **


	12. Desks

**Very few things can survive the passage of time. Buildings crumble, great witches and wizards die, and stories are forgotten- but not the stars. The stars are eternal. **

**Your Assignment: Write a story that takes place at least 50 years before Harry's first year at Hogwarts.**

**Desks**

* * *

_1918_

Newton Artemis Fido Scamander hated three things.

His name, his job, and desks.

The Office for House-Elf Relocation was dull and tedious in the extreme. When he had first joined the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he had imagined something a bit more exciting, like traveling around the world. After two years of working there, however, he could see that it was decidedly not so.

"Scamander!" He looked up from the paperwork he was currently filling out and saw his boss motioning to him to come into his office. Mr Graham was a boring man, just like his job. He was a follower of trends, and stuck to the norms of society.

Newt sighed. Whenever his boss wanted to personally see him, it never turned out to be good. He set the paperwork on his desk to finish later, and followed Mr Graham into the office.

"Sit," said his boss, motioning to the chair in front of the table. Newt sat on the edge of his seat, gripping the edges.

"I am not sure how to break this to you," said Mr Graham, " but you will no longer be in this department."

Newt's heart was racing. He was getting fired; he could feel it. There was no other reason.

"What I mean to say, Mr Scamander, is that you are being moved to the Beast Division. Now, I know this will be a disappointment to you, but you must understand."

He could hardly believe it. He was going to get out of this boring office and actually do something other than paperwork for a change! Newt fought to keep his face as neutral as possible.

"I understand, Mr Graham. It's been a pleasure working with you."

"Well, what are you standing there for? I know you love this job, but you have to pack your things and move to your new department."

"Of course, boss." Newt fled out of the office and to his table, hurriedly stacking all his paperwork and handing them to the nearest person to be completed as his personal possessions flew into the suitcase.

He snatched his suitcase up, and tucked his hat under his arm, rushing towards the offices of the Beast Division. Newt pushed the door open and was met with utter chaos. And he loved it.

Paper airplanes flew about the room, searching for its recipients before pummeling towards them. The room was noisy as various wizards shouted across to each other. Newt could even hear a Jarvey shouting rude phrases to the occupants of the room.

"Ah, yes. Mr Newt Scamander, is it not?" This question came from a rather large wizard who had multiple paper airplanes stuck in his beard.

"Yes, I'm Newt Scamander."

"Good. That's good. I'm Mark Stolley, head of the Beast Division. Which reminds me…WANDA!" Mr Stolley shouted this last word as a middle-aged witch with graying hair hobbled over.

"Did you want the letter, Mark?" she asked, holding out a piece of parchment.

"You always know what I want Wanda," said Mr Stolley, taking the parchment from her. "Here you go. I would advise you to read it as soon as possible. Your desk area, though you probably won't need it, is right over there, by Polly. Good to have you here, Newt."

Newt walked over to his desk, confused as to why Mr Stolley believed he didn't need it. He sat down onto the chair and began to read the letter. By the time Newt had finished, he was in shock.

He had just been asked to write a book about magical creatures by a Mr Augustus Worme. This meant that Newt would have to travel around the world looking for creatures in every nook and cranny of the planet.

His day just couldn't be better.

The job he had just gotten in the Beast Division was already way better than the Office for House-Elf Relocation, but to be asked to write a book? Of course he would. This new job of his might be fun, but the meager salary of two Sickles a week certainly wasn't. By writing a book, he could maybe raise those two Sickles to two Galleons.

Goodbye to paperwork and desks.


	13. Last Time

**Defence Against the Dark Arts Assignment: Write a scene with one or more people present or mention, during the first Wizarding War, using one or more of the following quotes in some way, be it inspiration or dialogue, or whatever.**

**Quote: "What are you doing? It could be a burglar!" "A burglar who rings the doorbell?"**

**Last Time**

* * *

Lily paused her quill as the doorbell rang, looking up just in time to see Harry zooming about the living room with James chasing after him. She smiled to herself. Ever since Sirius had gotten him the broom as a birthday present, her son had been unable to put it down. James had taken pride in the thought that Harry would make a great Quidditch player one day, just like him.

She walked towards the door, her hand moving to open it. "What are you doing? It could be a burglar!" exclaimed James.

"A burglar who rings the doorbell?" Lily said.

"It could be a very nice burglar." She raised her eyebrows at his ridiculous statement. She loved him, but sometimes he was a bit silly.

Lily opened the door to admit their friend, Peter. "See?" she said. "Not a burglar." James grumbled something in response, and helped Harry get off the broom before their son could nearly kill the cat again.

"Hey Peter!" he said as the three of them sat down at the table. "Everything alright? Any news?"

"Hi James, Lily. Nothing new. The funeral for the McKinnons is next week, though."

Peter seemed a bit down to Lily, which was pretty weird for his usual cheery self. She merely blamed his moodiness to the McKinnons and their death. What had happened was horrible, and she herself had cried all evening when the news had reached Godric's Hallow.

"Awful what happened, wasn't it?" asked James, his eyes shifting to her, afraid that she would break into tears again. He knew that she didn't like to talk about it, but it had to be discussed.

"Yeah." Peter's voice was quiet, and full of sorrow.

"It's just…unbelievable," Lily said. Marlene McKinnon had been such a nice person, and she and her whole family were gone, just like that.

"The thing I don't get is how the Death Eaters knew where they were." Lily sighed. Ever since the numerous deaths that had been happening, James had been getting frustrated. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, she always saw right through him. His latest way of venting his feelings was to formulate ideas as to why things happened. Right now, he was fixated to the theory that there was a traitor within the Order.

"We've gone over this, James," she said softly, her hand resting on top of his. "Dumbledore trusts everyone in the Order."

"But how else would the Death Eaters know? There has to be a traitor amongst us." Peter shifted in his seat. Lily couldn't blame him. James's restlessness seemed to be spreading to everyone.

"Then who would it be?" asked Lily.

"I…I…" stammered James, unable to come up with a response.

"Exactly."

"We're all in this together James," Peter said, a watery smile on his face. He may not have been the brightest person, but he was a loyal friend, something that Lily liked about Peter.

They talked some more for a while about the Order and what was happening. Throughout it all, Peter remained quiet and would often look at Lily and James in a curious way.

Eventually, after hours of talking, Harry started to cry. James picked Harry up in his arms and began amusing him with spells.

"I really should go," said Peter.

"Are you sure? You could stay for a while," said Lily. James was starting to worry her, and she wanted someone to stay and help cheer him up a little.

"Thanks, but I've got to meet up with Podmore. Bye," he said, looking at her and James as if he would never see them again. It could very well be the truth, depressing as it was. Lily knew that. The danger was increasing everyday.

"Bye Peter," she said. "See you again sometime?"

"Yeah, maybe." And with that, he walked out of the house, leaving Lily standing in the doorway.

"You alright?" Lily turned around to face James.

"Just worried about Peter."

"We'll all get through this, don't you worry. We've got to, for Harry, and for everyone else," James said, squeezing her hand. She laid her head on his shoulders.

"You're right. We will."


	14. Lions

**History of Magic Assignment: Write about Godric Gryffindor. Alternatively, write about a student's encounter with his portrait.**

**Lions**

* * *

_December 1956_

Minerva McGonagall walked towards her new office, her footsteps echoing across the empty corridor. She had just received the position of Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts from the new headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. The post was open, and she had gladly taken it.

As she was walking up the staircase, a portrait caught her eye. It was of a ginger-haired man dressed in an elaborate, scarlet robe. A bejeweled sword lay on his lap and he was snoring contently. Minerva smiled, her thoughts drifting to her days as a student at Hogwarts.

-.-

_1935_

_Mary nudged Minerva in the side as Ralph walked to the Ravenclaw table, a dreamy smile on her face. "Isn't he just the perfect guy, Minerva?"_

"_That pushy sweet-talker?"_

"_You always have to badmouth him, don't you?"_

"_He's a good-for-nothing guy. Frankly, I can't see what you see in him."_

_Mary ignored Minerva, and continued to watch Ralph as he devoured his dinner. The two Gryffindor girls were in the last weeks of their seventh year. Soon, they would leave the familiar halls of Hogwarts, and Mary wanted to make the most of what time was left, though most of it consisted of staring constantly at Ralph._

_Ralph finished the last of his dinner and he walked out, Mary's eyes trailing after him. "Continue your dinner without me, alright?" Mary said, getting up from the Gryffindor table._

_Minerva watched her go, and then headed towards the library, ever the workaholic. _

"_A Gryffindor, are we?" Minerva looked up, startled, and saw that a portrait of a ginger-haired man had addressed her. "It is always gratifying to see a student of my own house. I only teach those with brave deeds to their name."_

"_You're Godric Gryffindor, aren't you?" asked Minerva, immediately recognizing the founder of her house._

"_The one and only! Pray, what are you doing over here at a time like this?" He leaned forward in his chair, setting a ruby-encrusted sword to his side._

"_I was just heading to the library, to study."_

"_Study! Are you quite sure you are in my house?" Minerva weakly nodded. "You seem to be more suited toward Rowena's house. Study, my word! Do not get me wrong, child, studying is not at all bad, but it seems like that is all you children ever do."_

"_But we have to study, or else we'll fail."_

"_There is no harm in courageously adventuring throughout these halls, many of which hold various secrets," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Go, my child. Do something bold and courageous. Or as you young ones would say, live a little. Take heed of my advice, it will do you no harm."_

"_I'll try."_

"_Good. But I am afraid I must leave you now, as the headmaster is in want of my help. I hope that we may someday meet again." And with that, Godric Gryffindor walked out of his portrait as Minerva gathered up her bag, walking not to the library, but to somewhere else, an adventure._

_-.-_

"And here we meet again," she whispered, looking once more at his portrait. "We'll teach all those with brave deeds to their name. And more."

* * *

**It is unbelievably hard to write McGonagall. You have no idea.**


	15. Abyss

**Defence Against the Dark Arts: As this assignment is due on Halloween, we are writing scary stories. You must write a fic with the genres of horror, angst, mystery, suspense, or tragedy. You can pair one of these genres off with another, like "Romance/Tragedy," if you want to. You must use one quote and one non-quote prompt.**

**Abyss**

* * *

"I warned you not to go out tonight."

George glanced to the top of the stairs where his sister was standing, her arms crossed.

"Where's Harry?"

"Working the late shift. Where were you?" she asked, slowly walking down the stairs.

"It doesn't matter, Ginny," he said, turning away.

His sister stopped in front of him, taking in his appearance. "You got drunk, didn't you?" Ginny asked, her voice sharp.

"So what if I did? Is it such a big deal?"

"You said you'd stay sober this time! You promised me! You promised all of us!" she yelled, her voice nearly hysterical.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I really am," George said, collapsing into the chair by the fireplace.

"It's- it's just that you promised George. You said this time would really be it," she said, her voice quiet.

"Today's the day."

"I know." Of course she knew. He could see evidence of dried tears on her cheeks and bags were starting to form under her eyes, most likely from nightmares. He had the nightmares too, but they were always most prevalent around this time.

"Everyone's celebrating."

"I know, George."

"Why? Why do they have to celebrate? Don't they understand? Why don't they understand, Ginny?" he asked, his voice rising.

"You can't blame them."

"Why, though? So many people died, and yet, they are celebrating that day. It makes me sick."

"George- "

"So many died, Ginny. So many. Remus. Tonks. And- and Fred," he choked out, Ginny's lip quivering. "And people are out there, celebrating. I- I just can't…"

He trailed off, burying his face in his hands.

"He was my brother, Ginny. He was my twin brother. Do you know how much it hurts?"

"He was my brother too, George!"

"Oh gosh Ginny, I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. Everything's just a mess right now."

"No, I'm sorry George. It's been tough on all of us. I wasn't being fair."

They sat in silence as multiple fireworks started to go off. Tears were freely streaming down both of their faces as they listened.

"You were right," he sighed. "I did promise. And I should have kept it. But drinking is the only way I can escape everything."

"You could get involved with your shop again."

"I can't. At least not right now. Everything in there reminds me of him. I can't even look into a mirror without losing it. And I lost it today. I tried searching for a way out, and I found myself at a bar. And the rest is, well…"

"I get it George. You want the pain to stop, the nightmares. I want that too. There isn't a day that goes by that I can't think of what happened. But getting yourself lost in drinking isn't the way. Trust me," she pleaded, her warm arms wrapping around him.

"They're always about him," George said. "He keeps dying, over and over. And I can't stop it. I'm powerless to help him, just like it was back then. I can never rid myself of his face, frozen in laughter."

"Mine too. I can never do anything. I'm just frozen there, helpless."

Silence dominated the room.

"When will the nightmares stop? When can I stop torturing myself? I can't keep doing this."

Ginny looked at her brother. "We'll get through this. I don't know how, but we will."

"I hope so."

"Me too."


	16. Love is an Understatement

**DADA Assignment: As it is Autumn, and all of the leaves are changing color, we are writing about change. There is no specification on the type of change, only that it must be the focus of your fic.**

**Love is an Understatement**

* * *

Braxon ran up the stairs, eager to reveal the big news to his sisters. He could hardly keep it a secret, after all. "Claire! Guess what?" His twin turned around to face him, her light brown hair messily put into a bun.

"What is it this time?"

"You know the Vampires? Our local junior Quodpot team?" Claire nodded. "Well, they're going to let me play in the summer tournament!"

"Great," Claire said, distracted by the heart chain around her neck. Braxon's excitement faltered. Why wasn't his sister happy? The Ohio Vampires were known for Quodpot players that later became professionals. It was a big deal that they had even considered letting him on the team. Quodpot was nothing compared to Quidditch, but still.

"If you don't mind, Braxon, I've got a letter to write." He reluctantly walked out of his sister's room, and began searching for Emily, his younger sister.

"Em!" he called out, catching his sister's attention. Her dirty blonde hair had paint in it, and her clothes had red splatters all over. The easel next to her held a canvas, which was completely covered in an angry red. "Bad time?" he tentatively asked.

"No," she said cheerily. "I just finished."

"You only paint like that when you're angry, Em. What happened?" All the excitement from before vanished and was replaced with brotherly concern.

"Nothing much. I'm probably over-reacting anyway."

A sudden tapping on the window startled the two, and they looked at the unfamiliar barn owl at the window. Claire came rushing down the stairs, hopping two at a time until she reached the bottom. She let the owl in, and tore open the letter as soon as the owl gave it to her and flew off. Then, she disappeared up the stairs as quickly as she came, not even noticing her two siblings.

"That's the matter," said Em.

"What do you mean by that?" Braxon had no clue as to what his sister was referring to.

"Claire is what's wrong." She climbed onto the couch and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Have you two had an argument?"

"Haven't you noticed? She's acting different. Claire doesn't really talk to us anymore, and it seems like she always has something better to do than hang out with us."

"That's insane! How could you think that?"

"But is it really that insane?" Em quietly asked. "Think about it for a moment."

Braxon thought back to the time he recently had with his twin sister, and found that Em was right. Now, there was barely a time when the two had a good time together. More often or not, Claire was busy with her friends hanging out or writing letters to them. And earlier, when Claire just didn't seem excited and kicked him out of her room, her behavior seemed off.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah, she has been acting strangely," admitted Braxon. "But why?"

"Has she ever mentioned the name Bradley Dominic to you?"

"Um…just in passing, I think." He thought the name was familiar, but he just couldn't place it.

"Well," sighed Em, "she's in love with him. And I mean in _love _with him."

"Wait, she's in love with Bradley Dominic?" Braxon couldn't believe it. Bradley was the bad boy of the school, often getting in trouble. Sure, many girls were after his heart, but he just didn't seem like Claire's type. But it wasn't all that improbable, seeing as how he was the brother of Claire's best friend.

"I don't know. Love might be a bit of an understatement."

Braxon chuckled. "How do you even know all of this?"

"You know dad. He won't let any of her friends come over. So that means that I have to be the receiving end of the girl talks she'd usually have with her friends. Do you know how many times I've had to listen to her describe his perfect eyes? It's great that she has a bit of love in her life, even if it's unrequited, but the only thing she ever talks to me about now is her dream boyfriend."

"At least she talks to you," grumbled Braxon.

"I just want it to be how it was before she discovered her knight in shining armor. Why can't it be like that?" Em gazed out the window, a wistful look on his face.

"We've got each other, at least. And besides, we all know what teenage girls are like."

"Especially you. After all, you are one."

"Oh yeah, that's- Hey! I'm not a teenage girl!" Em smirked as she dodged a flying pillow.

Sometimes, his sisters could be insufferable, but he would always love the both of them, no matter what.


End file.
